Pt 2

Six year old Polly stopped just inside the copse and allowed the other squealing, giggling piglets to run past her. This was her third hunt and she had a strategy. Her first had been survived by simple dumb luck but on her second, the year before, she had noticed something and decided to take advantage. Not that she especially minded the idea of being caught, she wouldn’t have volunteered if that were the case, but this was a game after all and what was the point of playing a game if you weren’t going to play to win? If she survived this hunt and next year’s then she would be able to join the hunters the year after and that actually struck her as a lot more fun!

The fact she had noticed was that all the piglets tended to run deep into the woods and either try to run around or find somewhere to hide. The hunters, all of whom had been piglets themselves at one point, understood and expected this so didn’t tend to start looking for prey very seriously until they’d walked twenty meters or so into the copse. Very close to the edge, but hidden enough by the first row of trees that anyone watching from the bottom of the hill was unlikely to notice, was a very climbable tree. Polly had noticed it on her way out after the final gun at the end of her first hunt and had resolved to try a strategy the next year.

It had paid off perfectly so she was going to rely on it again. All she had to do was climb the tree once all the other piglets had run off then, when they hunters came, they would walk straight past her and all she had to do was bide her time until the hunt was over. Giggling to herself over her own cleverness, the naked little girl began to climb the tree.

Five year old Amy was looking for a good hiding place. She was a little on the chubby side and not nearly as athletic as most of the other girls, many of whom were part of gymnastics or dance clubs. She knew that lots of them liked to run around, teasing the hunters and dodging their paint-pellets which, due to their low velocity, had a fairly short range, but she knew that if she tried that she’d be out of breath and shot in the first couple of minutes.

Some of the white girls had jokingly complained the girls like her with dark skin had an advantage as it was easier for them to camouflage among the trees but her big sister Carol, experienced hunter and veteran piglet had explained that this would only work if she stayed dead still as it was movement that the hunters tended to notice more than anything else. Yes, if she stood dead still against tree with her eyes closed or curled up next to one, she might be easier to miss from a distance than someone who was highly reflective pale colour but the moment she moved, she would give herself away. For someone like her, the best bet was to find a good hiding place.

Looking around urgently, Amy spotted a fallen tree-trunk that had rotted in the middle, turning it into a tunnel. It looked big enough to crawl into and she didn’t think she would get stuck. Even if she did, she would just have to wait for the third gun-shot which signified the end of the hunt then call for help as shooting a piglet after that was strictly against the rules and any hunter caught doing so faced disqualification and live butchering as a warning to others. She had never seen this happen, not had her sister, but they had both heard stories from the years before they were born about over-confident hunters who believed they would never get found out! Carefully, she wiggled her chubby nude body into the hollowed-out trunk and waited, trying not to breath too loudly.

Most of the prey were running around wildly. Tripping, bumping into each other and giggling, not really caring if they got caught or not, but seven year old Mackenzie considered herself apart from them. She was the oldest among the piglets and next year she would be joining the hunters. She looked sneeringly at the younger girls, confident that she would be walking out of the copse scot free and enjoy watching those who had been shot get butchered. Those who survived this year, she would be going after next year and she was sure that they would not be around for the following year.

“Keep the noise down!” She hissed angrily at the two sisters who were stood close by her and giggling. They were four and five years old and, although aware of the consequences of losing, were treating the game no more seriously than they would a game of hide and seek.

“Lighten up!” the older girl told her. “This is supposed to be fun!”

“Maybe you think it’s fun to get your head cut off!” Mackenzie sneered, displaying a perfectly teenaged attitude despite only being just over half way there, “But I want to be a hunter next year and if by some fluke you survive this year, I’ll come after you hard then! Not that you will, anyway!” She gave a cruel smile.

“What do you mean?” the younger of the two asked, “Why can’t we win this year?”

“Look at you,” the seven year old pointed at the two cutely tubby sisters, “then look at me!” She indicated her own lithe, toned body, honed to perfection, as she saw it, through years of gymnastics and swimming. “Who do you think’s going to have a better chance of getting away from the paint?”

“Who do you think’s going to be the more sought-after prize?” The five year old asked, archly, raising one eyebrow.

Just then, the second shot rang out, startling the pigeons in the trees who had only just settled back down from the first. There was much squawking and fluttering up in the trees and the two little sisters ran off giggling, holding hands, leaving Mackenzie on her own. The hunters were coming.

Up in her tree, Polly heard the hunters running into the woods. They were quieter than the prey and tended to take the hunt more seriously. After all, it was their skill that was being tested. From where she sad, the six year old could see most of the girls disperse as soon as they were in the copse, knowing that most of the piglets would have run straight to the far end and that there would be easy pickings there. One, however, the oldest of the hunters who she knew to be called Jenna, stopped and leaned against the tree she was hiding in.

This puzzled Polly. Did the fourteen year old know she was there and hope she’d come down before the final gun? After a few minutes of doing nothing, Jenna pointed her gun at the top of the tree opposite and fired. There was a soft popping noise and a rustling as the pellet disappeared into the foliage.

“Oops!” She said in a comically loud and deliberate voice. “Silly me! I missed her!” She fiddled with the gun in her hands for a sort time more before taking another shot, this time into the leafs on the forest floor. “Oh no!” She declared again, “Whatever is up with me today! I just have the worst luck!”

“What are you doing?” Another hunter, a black girl of around eleven that Polly recognised as Amy’s big sister Carol, approached Jenna curiously. “Looks like you’re not even trying?”

“Oh hey!” Jenna grinned, “How’s your luck today?”

“Not bad, got a couple of cuties on the but and one on the belly!” Carol chuckled, “Done my bit to feed the hungry without having to do it literally for another year. But what about you? You waiting for some to run this way ‘cause I don’t think that going to happen!”

“Nope!” Jenna shot almost directly up into the air and Polly was relieved to see that the pellet arched and began its downward journey far short of the branch where she was sat. Clearly even if they spotted her up here, she would be safely out of range. Unless, of course, they decided to climb up after her. But it didn’t seem like either girl was too bothered about finding more prey for the time being.

“You know you get cooked, right? If you don’t shoot anyone?” Carol really wondered what had got into the older girl. Jenna was famous among their community as the best hunter. This was her final year before retiring and giving up her space to one of the younger, up and coming girls and everyone expected it to be her best ever, doubting that any piglet would make it out of the woods without Jenna’s bright orange paint adorning some part of their body.

“Well duh!” Jenna laughed. “I’ve wanted to be cooked since my first hunt! I’m just do damn competitive and could never do anything but try my best. Every year when I was a piglet I hoped one of the hunters would be too quick or clever for me but they never were so year on year I kept surviving. Then I became a hunter and I guess I was too good at that too!”

“So what’s going on now?” Carol asked. “You certainly don’t seem like you’re playing to win this time!”

“Trust me, it’s hard!” Jenna laughed, firing off another random shot and loudly cursing her own clumsiness, “But this is my last chance and I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna ride that spit today!”

“Well, okay!” Carol laughed, “If you say so! There’s a few minutes left so I’m gonna go see if I can ruin at least one more piglet’s day!”

“Good luck!” Jenna grinned.

“Umm, you too!” Carol chuckled again, shaking her head as she stalked back into the trees in search of further prey.